


Nailed

by logans_girl2001



Category: CSI: Miami
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 05:17:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17176628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/logans_girl2001/pseuds/logans_girl2001
Summary: When Ryan takes a nail in the eye from a nail gun, Eric realizes he actually has feelings for the younger man.





	Nailed

The drive from the hospital to Ryan's apartment is made in silence. I keep glancing over at him, positive he's fallen asleep but each time my gaze is met by his. At one point he even rolls his eyes at me, a motion which causes him to wince as it pulls on the abused skin next to his right eye.

"Seriously, Delko? What gives?" he asks after about the hundredth time he catches me glancing over.

"Just making sure you're okay."

"Doctor wouldn't have released me if I wasn't."

I shrug. "I know. I just…" My voice tapers off. I've already expressed my feelings of guilt and had him absolve me of them; not that that makes them go away. Somehow I don't think I'll ever stop feeling guilty for my part in his accident.

"I already forgave you, Eric. Can we let it go, now?"

I nod, turning into his apartment complex. "Yeah, sure," I say while deep down inside I'm screaming, 'No, never!'. He may say he's forgiven me but I don't believe he truly has. I feel like deep down where it counts, he's still, as Calleigh would say, madder than a hornet's nest. He could have died today and it's all my fault.

If that nail had been a few inches to the left we would not be having this conversation right now. Would not now be headed up the stairs to his apartment where I'm going to do my best to take care of him; to make up for what I did, or to try to at least.

"I think I can get it from here." He turns in the doorway to face me. "Doctor said I'm on medical leave for the next week. I'll see you when I come back to work."

"Not so fast." I stop him from closing the door with my right hand. "I want to-" I have no idea how to finish that sentence. Ryan and I have never really truly been anything more than work friends. Speed was my best friend and it still hurts, his dying like he did. And while I know that Ryan has nothing to do with that, and was not hired to _replace_ Speed, it's still difficult seeing him everyday instead of Speed.

One of Ryan's eyebrows climbs his forehead. "Yes? You want to… what?"

_Make sure you're okay. Take care of you. Whatever you want me to do._ That last one gives me pause. I have _never_ thought that about a guy before. Surely it doesn't mean I'm gay. Because that would go against everything I was raised to believe. Not to mention the Church frowns on homosexuality.

"Eric?" Ryan prompts when I don't respond quick enough.

"Sorry. I just want to make sure you really are okay."

"I'm fine. Tired, but fine. Now-" He goes to shut the door again. "-if you don't mind…" I can't let him shut me out so I jump through the door before he can close it in my face. "What the fuck?" He grabs my arm and tries to force me out the door. "I said go home."

"Actually you didn't." I know I'm splitting hairs but I really don't care.

"Go home." He shoves on my chest.

"Dude, why won't you let me help?"

Ryan sighs. "I have a routine."

"And you're afraid I'll mess it up?"

He nods. "You being here is screwing with it. Hell, my injury is screwing with it."

"And having a week off, unplanned I might add, isn't?"

"I can handle that easier than you being here."

"Ryan, please let me help. I bet the doctor said to be careful about getting water and shampoo near that eye, didn't he?"

He side-eyes me. "Yeah, what of it?"

"You gonna go a whole week without washing your hair?" His eyes narrow and I know I have him. "I can wash your hair, then leave you to finish bathing on your own."

"So, what? You're gonna come over here every day just to wash my hair?"

I shrug. "Or I could just stay here."

"And we're back to you getting in the way of my routine."

"I promise to stay out of your way and to do things the way you want them done." I hold up my right hand like I'm being sworn in, in court.

"Why would you want to do that?"

_Yeah, Delko, why would you? It's not like you're hot for the guy. Right?_ I shake my head. "I just want to be here should you need me."

"And if I _don't_ need you? _At all_?"

Shoving my hands in my pockets I lower my gaze to the floor. "Just let me, okay?"

"Oh, my God! You think I lied when I said I forgave you."

"What!? No!" My head snaps up in time to see that damn eyebrow climb his forehead again. "I believe you _think_ you have. But I feel like deep down you haven't."

The corners of his mouth dip in a not-quite frown and he nods thoughtfully. "You might be right. Doesn't mean I want you here disrupting my routine."

"Seriously, Ryan." I raise my hand again. "I swear I won't get in the way."

He shakes his head. "You won't be able to help yourself. You'll see my routine as something you need to fix or it'll annoy you or you'll think it's stupid and you won't be able to not complain or offer suggestions on how to do it 'better'." He actually uses air quotes on that last.

"I take it all those things have happened in the past?"

"College roommates. Mid-way through sophomore year I decided to pay more in order to have a single room."

"That sucks. Some of my best memories of college involve my roommates."

"Yeah, well, not everyone is cut out for sharing their living space."

"I'm not trying to take over, Wolfe. I just want to help."

"You have to do what I say. I mean it. If I tell you to put something somewhere, no matter how crazy it sounds, you _have_ to do it."

"I promise. This is your space. I'm just a guest. Your word is law."

He stares at me for a moment, a thoughtful frown on his face. Then he nods as he comes to his decision. "Fine. But I reserve the right to tell you to leave at anytime."

"Deal." I can't keep the grin off my face at finally being allowed behind the walls of Ryan's life; to finally being allowed to see the real him.

"If I find out that you're telling _anyone_ about my personal life…" He doesn't finish that sentence, doesn't need to. It hurts that he thinks I'd do anything like that.

"What happens behind these four walls, _stays_ behind these four walls," I hasten to reassure him.

"Okay. Go get yourself a bag and come back. I'll have a spare key for you by then."

"No need. I got a bag in the car. I'll just go get it." Before he can say anything, I turn and jog down the stairs and over to my car where I grab my bag from the backseat.

"A little sure of yourself, aren't ya?" He eyes the bag when I return.

"Not really. I had been staying with a sick friend. And now I'm staying with you."

"Mmhm," he hums and I can tell he doesn't believe me.

I didn't lie. Well, not really. I was staying at Marisol's, making sure she has everything she needs when she gets back from her chemo treatments, and I consider her a friend. But after I ran into her at the hospital and Calleigh confronted me about it, I figured I had best start staying at my place again. And then Ryan got shot in the eye by a nail gun and suddenly going home didn't seem like a good idea.

Despite not totally believing me, he lets it drop. "I'm suddenly extremely tired. I'm gonna go lie down. Don't… touch anything until I can show you around."

"Your place isn't that big, Wolfe."

"You promised, Eric." He gives me a look that clearly says he knew I couldn't be trusted.

"You're right. I'm sorry. Am I allowed to watch TV?"

He frowns and I can tell this is hard on him: having someone in his space. "Yeah… No eating or drinking in here. In fact, just wait for anything to eat and drink until I wake up. And take your shoes off." I notice that he did so while I ran out to get my bag and that there are several pairs of shoes lines up neatly next to the door. "You can put them there." He points to the other side of the door. "And please don't put your feet on the coffee table."

It's like being at my mom's again, what with all the rules. "Okay. Anything else? Do you need help undressing?" I slip my shoes off and line them up similar to his right where he pointed.

He chuckles humorlessly. "I think I can manage that one. Been doing it since I was little."

I nod. "Yeah. Okay. Call if you need me, okay?"

"Pretty sure I won't - need you that is - until time to wash my hair."

I nod again and wipe my suddenly sweaty palms on my jeans while making my way around the coffee table to the comfy looking cream colored couch. "Sleep good, yeah?"

"Yeah," he mutters and disappears down the hall.

Sitting down on the couch, I find myself staring at a very nice flat screen and state of the art sound system. Remembering when he was having money problems, which led to his becoming addicted to gambling, I wonder how he can afford it. In fact, looking around, I wonder how he can afford this apartment. It's not far from the lab and in an up and coming area so I can guess the rent's close to, if not more than, four figures.

On the coffee table, oak I think, magazines are stacked neatly on one side with a large coffee table book of photos of different nature scenes on the other and a tea tray with coasters and three remotes in the middle.

Ryan has the same cable company I do so it just becomes a matter of which of the other two remotes works the TV. Both the TV and the stereo are by the same company so that's no help. I settle on an old fashioned 'Eeny, meeny, miny, moe' to decide and release a held breath when my guess proves correct. 

I flip aimlessly through the channels for several minutes, the shows are either just about over or have been on too long to me to know what's going on. Finally I come across a game on the classic sports channel I've seen before but that doesn't lessen my enjoyment any. What does, however, is that it's nearly over but I watch it anyway. After that game is another one that I _haven't_ seen, so I settle back to watch; cheering as quietly as I can so as to not disturb Ryan.

When that game finishes, I realize I'm hungry and that Ryan's been sleeping for nearly four hours. Thinking he shouldn't be sleeping this long, I get up and tip-toe down the hall.

The first door I come to is the bathroom. The theme of cream on cream is repeated here, only with a darker shade, one that's almost brown. Sounds of movement greet me when I stop outside the door at the end of the hall. "Ryan?" I call softly while rapping my knuckles lightly on the door.

A few seconds pass before Ryan yanks the door open. "I told you not to do anything."

"And I didn't." Both brows climb his forehead. "It's been nearly four hours. I was worried."

That seems to take the wind out of his sails. His shoulders slump and he breathes an "oh" that sounds... resigned? Defeated? He clears his throat and squares his shoulders. "Sorry. You hungry?" He bustles me back so he can step out of his room and shut the door.

I nod. "Yeah. I can eat." Chewing his lip nervously, he leads the way back up the hall.

"As you can see, this is the bathroom." He waves one hand at the open door as we pass. "Towels are in the cabinet over the toilet. Extra body wash, shampoo and conditioner, too. Toothbrushes and toothpaste are in the medicine cabinet." Guess that means he doesn't like to share his products and toothpaste.

"I'll give you an overview of the living room after we eat." He continues on through to the kitchen, twitching a pillow on one of the arm chairs back into place as he passes. "Everything is set up so that it's right where it needs to be when you need it. " To illustrate, he opens the cabinet over the coffeemaker to reveal several coffee mugs arranged by size: smallest (top shelf) to biggest (bottom shelf). 

"Serving utensils are in the drawer under the bowls and plates." He opens the pantry door. "Everything is in alphabetical order, first by food group then by type with oldest expiry dates in the back." He spins on his heel and tugs open the fridge door. "Same for the fridge and freezer." He closes the door but keeps his hand wrapped around the handle. "If you use something, put it back _exactly_ where you found it. Wash your dishes immediately. Dishes used while cooking can wait until you're done eating, but no longer than that."

Ryan seems to be shoring up his resolve for something. "Ry-" I start but stop when he turns to face me. In his eyes I can see that he expects me to make fun of his routine. "Do you really think so little of me, Wolfe?" I step closer, heartened when he doesn't budge. "Have I ever done anything to make you think I'd be crass enough to make fun of someone for needing this much order in their space?"

He chews his lip and I can tell he's thinking about how I treated him when he first joined the team. "You don't think you're being mean; even when you are, sometimes."

"If this is about how I acted towards you when you first joined the team, you have to know it wasn't personal." One brow climbs his forehead. "I had just lost my best friend and here H was bringing in a new guy." I shrug. "I _know_ it wasn't your fault, but I was pissed and couldn't exactly take it out on H." I look around at the neat kitchen and try to find the words to put him at ease. "I wish I was half as organized as you. My place is a huge fucking mess. Really, Wolfe, if this is what you need to unwind at the end of the day, who am I to say anything? Some people drink, some clean, some… do… other… 'things'." He snorts back a laugh and rolls his eyes. I grin, knowing I got him. "So. Want me to cook? Or do you want to order out?"

"Since what I had planned for dinner this morning will only feed me, we could order out or go somewhere if ya want."

I shrug. "Do you feel up to going out?"

He sighs and puts one hand to his eye, touching the brow bone instead of the injured area. "Not really. What're you in the mood for? Pizza? Chinese? Thai?"

"I'm easy. Whatever you're in the mood for is fine."

He clenches his jaw and I can hear him grinding his teeth. "I'm in the mood for what I had planned to eat."

He looks on the verge of a panic attack so I make a decision. "Then you have that. I'll go grab a burger or something."

"No!" He doesn't stomp his foot, but it's a very near thing. "You're a guest. It's my job as host to provide you with food."

"Look, Ryan, it's not a big deal. You've had enough stress for one day. You just fix your dinner and I'll go get something for myself."

He glares at me for several seconds. "My mother-" He begins and another piece of the puzzle that is Ryan Wolfe falls into place.

"Won't ever know."

"She will."

"Yeah? You gonna tell her? 'Cause I ain't." I turn and head across the living room to the front door. "Now, is that burger joint down the road any good?"

"Um…" His voice is so small. I turn at the door after putting my shoes back on, to find him standing in the door to the kitchen, wringing his hands. "At least let me pay for it." He pulls a smallish wad of cash out of his front pocket.

"Absolutely not. I think I can afford a burger. You got beer, right?"

"Yeah, I got beer."

"Okay, then. Be back in a few." I flash him a grin and leave him standing in the middle of his living room with one hand outstretched, offering me money.

The trip to the burger joint down the road and back is accomplished in less time than if I had ordered out. When I get back, I find Ryan sitting at the table in the back corner of the kitchen eating something I can't identify.

"That any good?" I ask, emptying my bag onto the table opposite where he's sitting.

He shrugs. "Good enough."

"Why're you eating it if it's not tasty?"

"I needed something quick and easy after working thirteen days straight." I wince at the censor in his tone.

"I knew you hadn't forgiven me. And I _did_ say I was sorry. I had things I needed to take care of. But they're not so important now." Which is a lie. Mari's health will _always_ be important to me.

"Whatever," he mutters, taking his dish to the sink where he washes it with practiced ease and puts it, along with his fork, back where it belongs.

When he goes to exit the kitchen I stop him. "Hey, Ryan?" He turns to face me. "Call when you're ready to wash your hair."

He nods. "Okay."

"Unless you're ready now?" I ask when he continues to just stand there.

"Huh? No. Finish your burger."

I get up and step closer. "You sure?"

"Yeah." He nods again. "I don't stink that bad, do I?"

I lean in to sniff him. "Nah. You smell like… you." When I go to lean back, I find my gaze caught on his lips. He licks them and I suddenly find myself needing to know what they taste like. Before I can really think about it, I wrap one hand around the back of his neck and tug him closer so I can sweep the inside of his mouth with my tongue.

"Yo, Earth to Delko!" Ryan's voice and his fingers snapping in front of my face bring me back from my daydream.

"Huh?"

"I _said_ , finish your burger, then meet me in the bathroom."

"Yeah, okay."

He pushes through the swing door, muttering something about crazy Cubans and I sit there blinking at the door for a long moment, letting my burger grow cold while I try and wrap my head around the fact that I really want to see what he tastes like. Where that particular desire came from I have no idea. I have _never_ once looked at another guy like that. Of course, being an athlete I can admire a man's physique, but only in an abstract 'he's really fit' kind of way.

My _Babushka_ would turn over in her grave if she knew her only grandson was thinking about a guy like that. Not that I'd ever act on it. I mean, The Bible says it's wrong. Plus this is Ryan we're talking about. He is about as far from my type as you can get and not just because he's a guy. Not to mention I'd probably get a fist to the face if I ever tried anything.

My stomach rumbles and I quickly eat my now cold burger and equally cold fries before getting up and disposing of my trash in the stainless steel trashcan. Still mostly shaken over the daydream of kissing Ryan, I exit the kitchen and make my way to the bathroom. And find Ryan sitting on the side of the tub wearing a pair of blue flowered board shorts.

"Any suggestions on how we do this?" he asks. I can see the nervous energy that he's just barely keeping in check when he stands up.

"How about you kneel in the tub and hold this towel over your face while I pour water over your head? Or you can stick your head under the faucet."

He nods. "Yeah, okay." Stepping into the tub he kneels down facing the faucet and places the towel over his face before leaning down so that his head is almost under the faucet.

"How do you like it? Warm? Hot? Mostly cold?"

"Warm." His voice is muffled by the towel.

I turn on the water and sit on the closed toilet lid while waiting for it to heat up. "You can sit up for this part, ya know."

"I'm good, thanks."

"Whatever," I mutter and roll my eyes.

When the water is the temperature he wants, he shuffles forward enough to stick his head under the faucet. Sliding off the toilet, I kneel next to the tub and run my fingers through his hair, making sure it all gets wet. His hair is softer than I thought it would be and it's making certain parts of my anatomy stand up and take notice. Not comfortable with that, and still not sure _why_ I'm all of a sudden attracted to him, I make quick work of washing his hair.

"That good enough? Good." I don't let him respond, just bolt for the door and back to the living room.

I've really put my foot in it this time. There is absolutely nowhere for me to run to without making him think I'm just like everyone else because there's no way I'm going to tell him that I ran because I find him hot and I refuse to let him think that his need for order is more than I can handle.

"Eric?" I jump at the sound of his voice from behind me.

Whirling around, I swallow and try to give him a reassuring smile. "Did you need something else? Should I clean up the bathroom?"

"No. Everything in there is fine." He gives me a shrewd look and I just know he can tell that I got aroused just from washing his hair. "But everything's _not_ okay with you, is it?"

"Why do you ask?" Panic is building in my gut but I refuse to let him see it.

"Because you just about scrubbed me bald, then fled the bathroom like it was on fire. If you can't stand to touch me long enough to wash my hair then you can just go." He extends one hand toward the door.

"It's not that. Really."

He closes his eyes in a 'Heaven help me' kind of way and sighs. "Then what is it?" I open my mouth, not sure what to say, but nothing comes out. "Eric?" He frowns at me. "What gives, Man? You just about brow beat me into letting you help then act like you'll catch something just by washing my hair. I'm starting to get a complex."

"Sorry. It's not you, I swear." Even though it _is_ him. But I can't leave, not when he needs my help.

"Then what is it?"

Knowing that he's just stubborn enough to insist I tell him, I give him a partial truth. "That friend I was staying with? It's my sister. She has cancer and isn't handling the chemo so well. I used to help wash her hair. Washing yours reminded me that she's not going to have hair for much longer."

"I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"Yeah. No one does. I haven't told anyone."

"Why not? We'd all be happy to help cover your shifts."

I shrug. "It's personal. I try to leave it at the door but when I'm up half the night holding her hair so she can puke…"

He shakes his head. "I thought you were just flaking on your job. I _was_ still blaming you."

"I figured." I turn to the door, picking up my bag on my way. "I'll just go."

"No!" He jumps forward and grabs my arm. "No, stay. I enjoyed having someone washing my hair. Made me feel like I was at a salon."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, besides, you haven't totally made it up to me yet." His grin takes the sting out of his words and I just roll my eyes, but I do set the bag back down. "You should tell H. Especially if she's smoking to try and combat the nausea."

"I know. Just not sure how to broach the subject."

He nods and leads me to the couch. Pushing on my shoulders, he forces me to sit. "I get that it can be difficult to tell but H is more than just our boss. Or at least I think he is. He'll understand and make sure dispatch doesn't call you when you need to take the day."

"Yeah, okay. I'll talk to H."

"Good. I'm gonna go finish my shower, now." And with that he leaves me alone in the living room.

Twenty minutes later he rejoins me wearing a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, his hair and skin, what I can see of it, still slightly damp. When he sits on the couch he ends up on the very edge of my personal space and my heart picks up speed at his nearness. I try to ignore it, telling myself it's just because we're still mostly strangers, but fail miserably when my dick takes notice.

Horrified that I'm getting aroused by Ryan Wolfe, I grab the nearest throw pillow and clutch it in my lap, knowing I'm most likely not fooling him. But it makes me feel better; gives me a bit more room and acts sort of like a shield.

Ryan glances over during a commercial break and snorts when he sees me gripping the pillow in my lap. "Relax, Delko. Your virtue is safe with me."

"I didn't - _don't_ \- think that."

"Sure." It's obvious he doesn't believe me.

"Really, Ryan. I don't think you're going to do anything." He shrugs and returns his attention to the game playing on the TV. About five minutes later exactly what he meant hits me. "Wait," I say, holding up one hand and turning slightly to face him. "Did you just come out to me?"

He frowns at me for a second or two and then his brows rise in surprise. "You mean you don't know?"

"Don't know what?" I'm so fucking confused right now.

"I'm pansexual."

"Pan-what?"

He ducks his head and blows out a breath. "A pansexual is attracted to people of all gender identities and biological sexes."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, I've been with all different genders: men, women, men who identify as female, women who identify as male and everything in between."

"Who all knows?"

He shrugs again. "Alexx, Calleigh. I _think_ H suspects. Tripp might as well. I've been letting my guard down some and may have let some things slip that would peg me as not exactly straight."

I'm still trying to wrap my head around the whole 'men who think they're women' thing. Mostly because I love my dick, love having one, really love being a guy and fucking women. So I can't imagine any man wanting to go through what my mother and sisters do what with all the primping involved and harassment by male pigs on the street.

"How does that all work?"

"What?"

"Sex. With people who aren't genetically female. And the women who think they're men."

"The MTFs, that's male-to-female, is just like sex with a guy who identifies as male, unless they've had surgery. As for the FTMs, they tend to ask for anal instead of vaginal."

"Does it get confusing?"

"Does what get confusing?"

"Who the guy is when you're with people who 'identify'-" I use air quotes. "-as male?"

I can see his anger at my ignorance warring with his desire to 'educate' me. "First, lose the air quotes and the sneer when talking about Trans people. It's insulting. Second, no one has to be 'the guy' in any relationship not even a straight one. And third, I'm not sure I want you in my house if that's how you feel."

I blink at him. "Whoa, Wolfe, ease up. I meant no disrespect. I was raised that anything other than a guy and a girl is wrong." I hold my hands up, palms out when storm clouds start building in his eyes. "But I'm old enough to make up my own mind about it."

"And?" His tone warns me that my answer had better be the right one.

"And… I don't see what the issue is. So you don't care what the person's gender is. Who am I to judge? I'm not God. He's the only one who can say what's right and wrong in this instance."

He nods sharply once. "Good. You have any questions?"

"Um…" I chew my lip, trying to find the words. "Well… how… how did you know that you're not straight?"

He sits back into the corner of the couch and looks at me like he's trying to decide if my question is serious or not. "Well, I guess I knew the same way you did."

"So, when you found yourself attracted to… people?"

One corner of his mouth quirks up in a half smile. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Is it weird?"

"What?"

"Kissing a guy."

He narrows his eyes at me and I can see the instant the light goes off as he figures out why I'm asking. "How about I show you?" He scoots closer and I force myself to not move. "I won't bite. This time," he murmurs, leaning in and touching his lips to mine.

The kiss is over before it's even really begun and that just won't do. Throwing the pillow aside, I grip his head in my hands and tilt it to my left so I can seal my mouth to his and discover for myself just what he tastes like. Only to find myself unable to concentrate on that with his tongue dueling with mine in a battle for dominance of the kiss.

Someone moans and our hands roam everywhere: through hair, down cloth covered backs to fumble under shirt hems to the bare skin underneath. Ryan trails nipping little kisses along my jaw to my ear and I find myself flat on my back on the couch; an unfamiliar hardness pressed against my thigh.

"Maybe we should take this to the bedroom," he whispers in my ear, his warm breath causing a shiver to skate down my spine.

His words have the same effect on me as a bucket of cold water. "I don't know that I'm ready for _that_. But the making out like teenagers is nice."

"Says the guy whose hard on just deflated like a popped balloon." He sits up, tugging his shirt back into place and finger combing his hair.

"I'm sorry, Ryan." Following suit, I sit up while tugging my shirt back down. "Please be patient with me. Being attracted to a guy is new to me."

He eyes me from the corner of his eye. "Okay. Just so long as I don't hear _anything_ about this in the locker room at work. My sexual preference is nobody's business, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. What happens behind closed doors, stays behind closed doors has always been my motto."

He snorts. "Sure it has. You've already admitted to being raised to hate people like me. And I know you're Catholic and that Catholics don't have a reputation for the whole 'live and let live' philosophy."

"Ryan." I shift closer on the couch. "I'm not about to blab to our co-workers that we made out or that I'm attracted to you. And not because I don't want to be harassed but because it's no one's business what we get up to behind closed doors." I reach out with one hand and trace his eyebrow. "I wish I could say I'd be up for actual sex sometime soon but the truth is I'm not sure I ever will be. But I can promise to give hand jobs and _maybe_ blowjobs a try. Not to mention I really did enjoy kissing you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." When I lean in for a kiss I notice the lines around his eyes have deepened. "When'd you last take a pain pill?"

"How long have I been out of the hospital?"

"Not funny, Wolfe."

"Not trying to be." And now his pain has leaked into his voice.

I sigh. "Where's the bottle?"

"Didn't fill it."

"What!?"

"Don't need it."

"Says the man about to pass out from the pain." I push myself up off the couch. "Tell me you at least filled the antibiotic." He refuses to meet my eyes. "Right. Good thing I insisted I help, huh?" He glares up at me through his lashes. "Where are the scripts?"

"My pants pocket. They're in the hamper in my room."

I don't know what I expected Ryan's room to look like but I'm fairly sure the dark masculine bed frame with matching end tables and dresser are not it. While the rest of the apartment, even the kitchen, is done in shades of cream giving it a light airy feel, his room is done in black and dark green. The furniture is black stained oak, judging by the scent, the linens and curtains are a dark hunter green with cream accents here and there. The overall effect is very much Ryan. For a long moment I'm caught imagining him pinning me to the king sized mattress and fucking my brains out.

I shake myself out of that daydream and quickly find the hamper just inside the closet with his pants on top. The scripts are in the left front pocket. Stuffing them into my own, I make my way back to the living room.

"My insurance card is in my wallet." Ryan nods to a small table near the door that I have failed to notice until now.

I transfer his card to my wallet and turn back to him. "You need anything else?"

He shakes his head. "If you want something specific for breakfast, you'll have to pick it up at the store."

"Okay." I lean down and press my lips to his as if I've been doing it for years. "You'll be okay while I'm gone?"

"Yeah." He nods. "Walgreens is right around the corner near that burger joint where you got your dinner."

"Okay. Be right back."

Luckily the pharmacy isn't busy and I'm in and out in less than ten minutes. Back at Ryan's I find him stretched out on the couch. "Here." I hand him one of each pill with a glass of water. He doesn't even protest, just swallows them down. "Now, let's get you to bed." I poke and prod him until he reluctantly shuffles down the hall to his room where he allows me to strip him to his boxers and tuck him into the bed.

When I go to step back, he stops me with a hand on my arm. "Join me, please."

Finding myself unable to resist, I remove my pants and shirt and join him under the covers. He rolls to face me and curls up against my side before promptly falling asleep.

Despite it being much too early for me to go to sleep, I soon find my limbs growing heavy as sleep tries to pull me under. Not wanting to disturb Ryan by getting out of bed, I allow myself to be pulled under. I don't usually sleep well in strange places but this time is different. My sleep is restful and if I dream, I don't remember it.

I'm not sure how long I've been asleep when I become aware of Ryan rocking his hips against mine and pressing gentle kisses to the side of my neck. Rolling to my side, I capture Ryan's lips with mine. He moans into my mouth and shifts closer, throwing one leg over my hip.

Our kisses start soft, almost chaste but soon we're fighting for dominance of the kisses and our hands are roughly roaming everywhere we can reach. One of Ryan's hands trails down my spine and grips one butt cheek while he rolls us until I'm lying on top of him. One of his legs is between mine, his thigh rubbing against my balls. I shift so that I'm straddling his hips, pressing my erection down against his, trying to find enough friction to get off.

Ryan slips both hands under the waistband of my boxers and grabs my ass, holding me still. I whine low in my throat and he shushes me with tender kisses to my jaw. "No need to rush, Eric," he whispers.

"Please," I beg, nibbling at his ear lobe. He chuckles and pushes my boxers down as far as he can with me straddling his hips. With a wiggle, I get them off, along with his, and we both hiss when our naked flesh comes into contact for the first time. 

I prop myself on my elbows and stare down into his hazel green eyes. He keeps one hand firmly on my ass and trails the fingertips of the other lightly up my spine to grip my shoulder tight and pull me back down so he can suck on my tongue some more. Burying my fingers in his hair, I deepen the kiss, thrusting my hips down against his.

Shifting a little, he gets his legs around my waist and his hand between us so he can wrap his fingers around my dick. I pull back to catch my breath and concentrate on the sensation of having another guy jerking me off for the first time. Ryan leans up and sucks on a bit of skin under my jaw.

"Come for me, Eric," he growls, scraping the corner of my jaw with his teeth. 

Throwing my head back, I give in and come all over our chests.

Eventually my breathing returns to normal and I roll off him while reaching for his dick to return the favor only to find that he's already climaxed.

"That was…" I have no words to describe just how great that was.

"Mm," he hums, nuzzling under my jaw to nip at the bruise he sucked onto my skin. "If you think that was great you will just absolutely love blowjobs and actual intercourse."

"Uh…" Panic starts to build again. If I never want to fuck him, will he leave? Or will he try to pressure me into it?

Luckily he seems to sense my worry. "Relax, Eric. I'm good with what we just did. I mean, yeah, sex is awesome but it's not the only thing we can do." He leans back to look me in the eye. "I promise we'll move at your pace. If we never actually have intercourse, well that's just fine. Really."

"Yeah?"

He gives me a gentle smile and leans in kiss the tip of my nose. "Yeah. I just want to be with you."

"Really?" I can feel the heat of a blush creeping up my torso and neck into my face.

"Really. I've wanted you since I first saw you. But I was a bit intimidated. That's why I took credit for finding that key gun."

I can laugh about it now, but back then it totally pissed me off how he went to H with the evidence without waiting for me. "So, you thought undermining me would make me want to be with you?"

He shrugs. "I wasn't thinking. Well, not with my big brain at any rate."

Chuckling softly at his candor, I lean in to press my lips to his and am reminded that our chests are covered by our combined come. "I think we need to take a shower."

"Agreed." He rolls from the bed and walks around it to pull me up and after him to the bathroom.

After one of the most sensual showers of my life where Ryan proved that getting a blowjob from a guy is infinitely more pleasurable than getting one from a girl, we curl around each other again in the bed. We spend a few pleasurable moments trading soft kisses and caresses before settling down to sleep.

Neither of us has uttered the 'L' word but I think we're both thinking it. I feel like this could be it for me; that Ryan could be The One. I hope that over time Ryan comes to feel the same and that my family can accept him in my life.


End file.
